


Can't Fight This Feeling

by enigmalea



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, One-Sided Attraction, POV Third Person Limited, Pining, Present Tense, Slow Burn, The Hanged Man (Dragon Age), idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-02-25 02:48:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22008748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmalea/pseuds/enigmalea
Summary: Varric Tethras is a good man, even if he's a really, really dumb one. The story of one Varricmancing Hawke who waits for 14 years for her best friend to get his head out of his ass and ask her on a date, told in one-shots and drabbles as they come to me.Rating for future sexual content and may be bumped up to explicit."You aren't saving yourself for who?"The voice from behind her makes her blood run cold and she freezes, hand clenching the tankard of ale so tightly her knuckles turn red. She is sure her eyes are nearly popping out of her head as they met Fenris' across from her, silently pleading for help. It isn't Fenris who comes to her rescue, however, as Merrill squeaks out from beside her, "Sebastian!"Right. Perfect."Choir Boy?" Varric laughs as he pulls out the chair beside her and sits between her and Merrill. "Oh, this I've got to hear."
Relationships: Female Hawke/Varric Tethras, Hawke/Varric Tethras
Comments: 14
Kudos: 62





	1. Happy Birthday, Hawke

**Author's Note:**

> I've written a couple of these one shots and drabbles in no specific order and was planning on holding them until someone suggested I share them with the world. Just a heads up, I'll be posting them out of order as I finish them and reordering them into chronological order.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy the dumb couple as much as I do.
> 
> * * *
> 
>  **follow me for updates:** [ao3 (click subscribe)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmalea/profile) ☆ [tumblr](http://enigmalea.tumblr.com) ☆ [twitter](https://twitter.com/enigmaleaDA)  
>  **prompt me:** [how to](https://enigmalea.tumblr.com/post/185117840754) ☆ [submit](https://enigmalea.tumblr.com/ask) ☆ [read on tumblr](https://enigmalea.tumblr.com/tagged/my-drabbles) ☆ [read on ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/frillycakes)  
>   
>  **join me on discord:** [The Hanged Man](https://discord.gg/9RERC6R) (18+, DA fanfic server for writers, readers, and betas)
> 
> * * *
> 
>  **NOTE:** If you received an email from a subscription, I'm not sure how it looked. Chapter 1 is the new chapter! As per my original note, this story is being published out of order and rearranged as I got. Please let me know how your subscription emails looked so I can figure out if there's a better way to do this!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Hawke's birthday, but no one in Kirkwall outside of her family should know that. Of course, that means Varric knows.
> 
> * * *
> 
> _The small, brown-paper wrapped package lands with a soft thud just inside of her peripheral vision and her hand stills on the hilt of her dagger as her eyes snap up to the dwarf who is just barely taller than her when she's sitting. “What’s that?”_
> 
> _“Pretty sure it’s a gift,” Varric replies, honey eyes sparkling in the firelight. “But I dunno. Could be a block of wood.”_
> 
> _“Why would you get me a gift?” Amelia asks, unable to keep the confusion off her face. Varric Tethras is a business partner (sort of) - truthfully, they barely know one another, but he’s been helping her get odd jobs here and there so they can scrap together the gold to buy into a trip into the Deep Roads being financed by his brother._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **follow me for updates:** [ao3 (click subscribe)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmalea/profile) ☆ [tumblr](http://enigmalea.tumblr.com) ☆ [twitter](https://twitter.com/enigmaleaDA)  
>  **prompt me:** [how to](https://enigmalea.tumblr.com/post/185117840754) ☆ [submit](https://enigmalea.tumblr.com/ask) ☆ [read on tumblr](https://enigmalea.tumblr.com/tagged/my-drabbles) ☆ [read on ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/frillycakes)  
>   
>  **join me on discord:** [The Hanged Man](https://discord.gg/9RERC6R) (18+, DA fanfic server for writers, readers, and betas)

Her birthday is no reason to celebrate.

It never has been. It isn't as if Amelia Hawke wants to _die_ (that should be obvious from how hard she's fought to stay alive), but it also isn't as if she is particularly happy to have been born either. For as long as she can remember, she has always been aware of the fact she was a disappointment to her parents. She wasn't born a mage like Bethany - like Malcolm wanted - and she wasn't... well, she wasn't Carver.

And the early years were lean. Birthdays were marked with a new sweater if they passed with any fanfare at all.

 _Now_ is lean.

She runs a finger down the glass holding the ale she's been sipping most of the night, and shifts in her seat hidden in the shadows of the Hanged Man. She should probably get home soon, though she really doesn't want to shove herself into the cramped room between her mabari and her sister.

The small, brown-paper wrapped package lands with a soft _thud_ just inside of her peripheral vision and her hand stills on the hilt of her dagger as her eyes snap up to the dwarf who is just barely taller than her when she's sitting. "What's that?"

"Pretty sure it's a gift," Varric replies, honey eyes sparkling in the firelight. "But I dunno. Could be a block of wood."

"Why would you get me a gift?" Amelia asks, unable to keep the confusion off her face. Varric Tethras is a business partner (sort of) - truthfully, they barely know one another, but he's been helping her get odd jobs here and there so they can scrape together the gold to buy into a trip into the Deep Roads being financed by his brother.

They've picked up a ragtag crew of mercenaries who are probably more trouble than they're worth. They aren't quite friends. They aren't quite anything. So, the present-

"Well, I heard from a friend of a friend that today is an important day in the history of the world," he says sliding onto the bench across from her and giving her a roguish smile. Her stomach does that thing it sometimes does when he smiles at her, but she ignores it; it is probably because she hasn't eaten since that morning. It meant nothing.

"A friend of a friend?" She quirks an eyebrow at him as he waves over Norah and two more ales appear on the table. She finally finishes her first glass and takes a sip of the second as Varric ignores the tankard in front of him, like he always does. She can't remember if she's ever actually seen him drink.

"A ray of Sunshine-"

"Bethany." Amelia says as Varric shrugs. "I... appreciate it, but whatever it is, you can take it back."

"I can't take it back." He smirks, and for half a second Amelia contemplates punching him in his smug face. She recognizes that face; it means he's got one up on someone - on _her_.

"Take it back. I'd rather have the money. I _need_ the money."

"I can't take it back," Varric replies, "and you can't resell it because no one will want it used, so you're stuck with the present."

She swallows hard, mind racing. What in the Void could he have gotten her? "You shouldn't have-"

"But I did. Open it," Varric prompts. Amelia doesn't reach for the package. "Hawke, open it or our deal is off and Bartrand will have to find some other suckers to-"

Her hand closes around the package before he can finish the statement. It is solid, but not heavy, and smaller than she thought at first glance. What could it possibly be? Anticipation is causing her heart to flutter rapidly and her stomach to do that flippy thing - and _wow_ , it's been a really long time since she's gotten a present. "Thank you," she says softly.

"You haven't even opened it."

"Still-"

"It could be the worst present you've ever gotten."

"It isn't." His honeyed eyes met hers and for a moment, Amelia thinks that maybe the sparkle that is there might be... but no Varric wouldn't be interested in her. And even if he is, she isn't interested in him. They have a partnership, and maybe, if she doesn't fuck things up too badly, a friendship.

"Open it," he prompts.

The brown paper is rough against her fingertips, and the string which binds it tight is impossible to unknot, but she manages to slip a corner free and roll the string off after only a few seconds of struggling with it. She can't stop herself from peeking under the edge of the paper, can't stop the look confusion on her face when she can't make out what is inside.

She gives up, pulling back the corner of the paper, as she examines the contents closely. She _smells_ it before the sight of it registers, the deep, rich smell of dark chocolate, heavy with cocoa and bitter. There is an undertone of vanilla and a hint of sweetness, something nutty or spicy she can't place. She can't remember the last time she'd had chocolate. She unwraps more of it then, squinting at the edge of the indention she can barely make out. She's certainly never had fine chocolate stamped with the seal of Antiva.

_How expensive is this?_

"I- I can't." She closes the wrapper and shoves the bar back at the dwarf.

"You can," Varric insists, sliding the bar of chocolate back to her, as he raises his eyebrows and sets his mouth to let her know he's serious. Serious Varric is slightly intimidating. It's not an expression she's used to seeing on his face.

"This costs more than I've saved for-"

"I know a guy."

"A guy?"

"A smuggler. I know a smuggler."

"Great so it's even _more_ expensive than I thought and possibly illegal," Amelia huffs, though she can't stop her lips from turning up slightly.

"Shut up and put it in your mouth," Varric challenges.

"I bet you say that to all the girls," she quips. If the blood rushes to her face it is only because she washes down the remark with more cheap ale and not at all because she is embarrassed.

Varric laughs, warm and loud, the sound crashing over her and causing something to blossom inside of her she doesn't want to think about too deeply. Varric has a lovely laugh "You gonna try it or-"

She doesn't have to be told again.

Her hand shakes slightly as she reaches for the present and folded back the paper. The small bite us an explosion of sensation - rich and dark and bitter and utterly sinful. There is a hint of something spicy on the back end, that make her tongue tingle, warming the inside of her mouth with spices she's not familiar with.

It is _amazing_.

It takes her a minute to realize she's moaned softly at the flavor, and then it is only because Varric's eyes are wide as he stares at her. She can feel her face getting impossibly warmer. "So, it's good then?" he asks, clearing his throat and averting his eyes from her.

"It's great," she replies. "Try some." She holds the bar out to him, and he firmly shakes his head.

"Can't. I'm allergic." He turns his attention back to her again, his smirk lighting up in a way that's both appealing and utterly infuriating.

"You're allergic to chocolate?"

"Chocolate I gave you for your birthday, anyway," he answers, grin getting wider. "And I don't want to hear about you sharing it with your mom or Sunshine or anyone else. That's yours."

"Ah, right. If you insist," Amelia whispers. Varric stands with an exaggerated stretch and a yawn. "Thank you," she adds hastily before he can run to his room.

"Don't mention it," Varric replies. "Seriously. If the others find out, they'll all be jealous."

"Right," she grins. She wants to say something more, something clever or funny, but she must be drunk, because the words get tangled up in her brain before reaching her tongue; she's distracted by the way the firelight reflects in his hair, glinting off his earrings and the metallic threads adorning his tunic, catching the sparkle in his eyes. He practically glows in here, as golden as the bag of coins he'd rescued from the thief who robbed her. He's always looking after her, since the moment they met.

Varric shifts on his feet, his eyes sweeping over her briefly. "Happy birthday, Hawke," he says softly. There's a pause, like he might say something else a twitch of his hand, but he simply shakes his head and crosses the stairs which lead up to the room he rents.

It isn't lost on Amelia that he hasn't touched the ale he ordered, and she is starting to think he does it on purpose, just for her. She glances over her shoulder at his retreating form, unable to stop herself from smiling.

Varric really is something, isn't he?


	2. A Hilarious Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian had a question for Amelia which she never could have seen coming.
> 
> * * *
> 
> _"But what if I'm living a tragedy?" she asks._
> 
> _"I won't let that happen," Varric declares, blinking eyes the color of honey up at her. Amelia leans a little closer, her heart skipping a beat as her eyes land on Varric's lips. "Tragedies are a hard sell."_
> 
> _She manages to stop herself short, but just barely, and she is so close to him she can taste the alcohol on his breath in the air. "You're going to have to get creative, then, Varric. I... I can't promise you a happy ending. The best I can hope for is dying gloriously in battle," she replies breathlessly. She frowns and forces herself back, putting distance between them._
> 
> _"But Sebastian… could have made you happy. Real-life fairy-tale prince, that one," Varric replies, his frown mirroring her own._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **follow me for updates:** [ao3 (click subscribe)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmalea/profile) ☆ [tumblr](http://enigmalea.tumblr.com) ☆ [twitter](https://twitter.com/enigmaleaDA)  
>  **prompt me:** [how to](https://enigmalea.tumblr.com/post/185117840754) ☆ [submit](https://enigmalea.tumblr.com/ask) ☆ [read on tumblr](https://enigmalea.tumblr.com/tagged/my-drabbles) ☆ [read on ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/frillycakes)  
>   
>  **join me on discord:** [The Hanged Man](https://discord.gg/9RERC6R) (18+, DA fanfic server for writers, readers, and betas)
> 
> * * *
> 
>  **NOTE:** If you received an email from a subscription, I'm not sure how it looked. Chapter 1 is the new chapter! As per my original note, this story is being published out of order and rearranged as I got. Please let me know how your subscription emails looked so I can figure out if there's a better way to do this!

"And then… and then he asked me to marry him!" she declares in hushed tones. She is met by two pairs of wide green eyes, both elves staring at her with an incredulity that matches her own. She isn't sure what possessed her to invite Merrill and Fenris to the Hanged Man, but Isabela is still nowhere to be found, she can't talk to Varric or Sebastian about _this_ , Aveline is busy with the guard, and Anders… Anders is acting more distraught than usual. They are really the only two people she has. She just wishes they got along better. She'd made them swear to be _civil_.

"He didn't," Fenris declares, his tankard of ale paused halfway to his lips.

"Ohhh, what did you say, Hawke?" Merrill asks, sipping her ale. Her nose scrunches at the flavor of the drink. It seems even after all of these years living among humans, Merrill hasn't gotten used to the swill which passes as alcohol at The Hanged Man.

"No, of course," she whispers. Her eyes dart around the room, and she just barely stops herself from looking over her shoulder to make sure no one she doesn't want overhearing is listening in. "He just… he just went on and on about how it would be a chaste marriage. We could both pledge ourselves to the Chantry and share in a marriage in the eyes of the Maker and… Andraste's tits, I nearly blurted out I didn't want to remain a virgin forever."

Fenris chokes as he drinks and Amelia's blush, which was already present due to the alcohol in her system, darkens. "Everything okay, Fenris?" Merrill asks innocently.

He clears his throat. "Yes, witch." Amelia can't help but flinch at his tone. "I just wasn't aware Hawke was-"

"As innocent as a newborn babe?" Merrill asks, her eyes flitting nervously between Fenris and Amelia. She is at least trying, even if she stiffened slightly at Fenris' statement. "Oh yes. She's been saving herself. It's awfully romantic."

"Oh Maker… that's not…. it's not like… _that_ -"

"Saving herself for whom?" Fenris questions, eyebrows raising. She shoots Merrill a _look_ which tells her to _shut it_ , and her mouth snaps shut. It isn't as if she's hiding it, exactly, and she is fairly certain it had been obvious, but if Fenris hasn't figured it out, yet, then she isn't about to spell it out for him.

"I think if I say, she might kill me," Merrill replies, "but you know him."

"Merrill!" she exclaims.

"Not Anders, I hope," Fenris practically growls.

"Of course not!"

"Then- who else could it possibly…" The statement trails off, Fenris' already wide eyes going wider and he gasps. "No. Really? _Really_? Does he even… is he even _attracted_ to humans?"

Amelia feels her heart clench, and she looks past the two of them, eyes landing on Norah as she serves another patron his drink. She clears her throat and raises her shoulder in what she hopes is a convincing half-shrug. "Doesn't matter. I'm not _saving_ myself for him. Something else will come along, eventually."

"You aren't saving yourself for who?"

The voice from behind her makes her blood run cold and she freezes, hand clenching the tankard of ale so tightly her knuckles turn red. She is sure her eyes are nearly popping out of her head as they met Fenris' across from her, silently pleading for help. It isn't Fenris who comes to her rescue, however, as Merrill squeaks out from beside her, "Sebastian!"

 _Right. Perfect_.

"Choir Boy?" Varric laughs as he pulls out the chair beside her and sits between her and Merrill. "Oh, this I've got to hear."

Amelia takes a deep breath, schooling the pure panic which has caused her to freeze from her face, and shifts in her seat so she is ever so slightly facing the dwarf. "He _proposed_ ," she explains. "A purely chaste marriage, with both of us loyal to our Chantry vows, of course."

There is a moment of silence as her words sink in and then, Varric erupts into laughter. "A purely _chaste_ marriage? You? Andraste's sacred ass, Chuckles. Please tell me you said yes."

"What?" she asks before she can stop herself. "Why would I have possibly said yes?"

"Think of the subplot I could have had about you tempting Choir Boy into sin!" Varric exclaims; his laughter is loud and fills the air of the tavern, drowning out every other sound Amelia can hear.

Her own laugh joins his, though it is much softer. "Of course, why didn't I think of that?" she asks. "Merrill, Fenris... are you ready for round two? Because I am; Varric's treat, of course."

"Yes, of course," Fenris agrees.

"No, I don't think-" Merrill begins, but the mage bites off her reply mid-sentence with a soft 'oof' as Fenris shifts, kicking her gently under the table. "Oh, sure," she corrects through clenched teeth, eyes narrowed at Fenris.

Varric sighs as if put out, but he slips from his chair and heads for the bar without further protest.

"You didn't have to kick so hard!" Merrill complains.

"Don't tell him!" Amelia nearly screams at Fenris. Her eyes dart nervously to Varric at the bar. "H-he doesn't know. I don't want him to know."

"You don't want Varric to know you like him?" Fenris questions. She emphatically shakes her head. "Hawke, you should-"

"I... I tried once to flirt, and he didn't... it's fine. I'll get over it," she hisses. "Just please don't say anything."

"You have my word, my friend."  
  


* * *

  
The Hanged Man is nearly empty, now; Merrill and Fenris left what felt like hours ago, the warrior promising them that he'd make sure Merrill made it back to the alienage safe. She'd been unsteady on her feet and giggly and probably wouldn't be feeling too hot in the morning.

Fenris is a good man, Hawke thinks idly. Why can't she have fallen for him?

The world is moving faster, or she is moving slower, she isn't sure which. All she knows is The Hanged Man is emptying, and she is leaning closer and closer to Varric, who is slouched forward enough he is nearly lying with his head on the table. Amelia is pretty sure this is the first time she's actually seen him drink here; sure, he always ordered something - the terrible wine, the horse-piss whiskey - but it has always been for appearances, to put people at ease.

"Still say you should have said yes. Could've changed his mind about the chaste part," Varric mumbles, words slurring as he blinks up at her.

"Shut up," Amelia sighs. "I don't wanna marry Sebastian."

"But it's perfect. He's handsome and... and tall... and he's a prince... and if you married him, his life would _not_ be boring anymore," Varric whispers. "He'd take care of you."

"I don't _need_ anyone to take care of me," she snaps.

"Sure, right. Forgot. The Fearless Chuckles. Takes care of everyone. Doesn't need anyone's help," Varric pushes himself up and narrows his eyes at her. "You make my life difficult, you know. Gonna have to really start making shit up about you to make people want to read a book about the Champion. People want their heroes to have a happy ending. I gotta give you a happy ending."

"But what if I'm living a tragedy?" she asks.

"I won't let that happen," Varric declares, blinking eyes the color of honey up at her. Amelia leans a little closer, her heart skipping a beat as her eyes land on Varric's lips. "Tragedies are a hard sell."

She manages to stop herself short, but just barely, and she is so close to him she can taste the alcohol on his breath in the air. "You're going to have to get creative, then, Varric. I... I can't promise you a happy ending. The best I can hope for is dying gloriously in battle," she replies breathlessly. She frowns and forces herself back, putting distance between them.

"But Sebastian… could have made you happy. Real-life fairy-tale prince, that one," Varric replies, his frown mirroring her own. Her heart clenches painfully and she flinches, hiding her reaction by polishing off the last of her ale.

"Don't want Sebastian," she declares abruptly, tankard hitting the table more forcefully than she intended.

"Then who?"

 _You_. She isn't quite drunk enough for that, and she bites back the confession. "Can't tie me down!" she declares. "Whatever sail in my wind… is that… no… boat in my dock?… deck in my…. shit, where is Isabela when I need her?"

"Whatever port in a storm?" Varric asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Aaaaaay, that's the one," Amelia laughs.

Varric tosses back his tankard, draining the dregs, and sliding almost imperceptibly closer to her. "Chuckles… listen… listen to me," he says, tone suddenly more serious than before. "You… you gotta take your chances to be happy, yeah? With someone who will treat you right. Cause you deserve it. You… you deserve it. And…" His eyebrows knit together closely. "Did… did you say you were saving yourself for someone? That can't be right. You're not a virgin… are you?"

Her blush darkens, and she leans her head on her arms on her table to hide it, groaning loudly. "Make the room stop spinning, Varric."

"Chuckles… Chuckles you gotta answer me-"

"No! Of course not!" she answers, not wanting to admit the truth. It doesn't matter if she lies to him… it isn't like he would ever find out, is it? "You misunderstood. I've… I've definitely done… things… and stuff."

"Sure, you have. A beautiful woman like you? Who could resist?" His breathless tone takes her by surprise, and she shifts, turning to look up at him without raising her head.

"You," she mumbles.

"Well, you're human. Humans are… weird. So tall. All those long limbs. Plus, I've got Bianca," Varric protests.

"Right. How could I possibly forget Bianca?" She pushes until she is sitting up straight, ignoring how the room is actually spinning now, punishing her for using that as an excuse to attempt to answer Varric's question. "I gotta get back to the estate…"

"Not now. It's late. Too late. Stay the night. You can take my bed," Varric offers.

Amelia narrows her eyes at him. "No one's gonna mess with the Champion of Kirkwall, Varric. Not even in Lowtown. Not even when she's drunk."

"You?! What about me? You got _me_ drunk. How am I supposed to protect myself if the Carta shows up? Have a heart, Hawke." Varric stands slowly, holding out a hand for her to take. She lets him help her up, but even with his help, she stumbles, and she rests her hand on the top of his head for balance.

"You know," Amelia muses. "You complain about humans being too tall, but… you're right at my tit height. That's gotta be useful for something."

"Yeah? I hadn't noticed," Varric says in a tone which suggested he _had_ noticed, but he'd never mention it. She doesn't dwell on that too hard. It's just a fact of anatomy and can't possibly mean anything.

"Maybe not on me, but surely you didn't miss it on Isabela."

Varric's nose scrunches up and he shakes his head, swatting her arm away as he turns to stumble his way through the Hanged Man. "Rivaini? Hardly." There is a long pause as his heavy steps lead her slowly up, both of them taking their time to navigate the spinning, rocking stairwell. Varric lands firmly at the top of the stairs and spins to face her. "Rivaini is _not_ my type," he adds.

She's almost forgotten what they are talking about. "Yep, I know. Human, and all. You know what this place could use?" she asks motioning around them at the Hanged Man. Varric raises an eyebrow. "Some cute dwarven serving girls."

He laughed softly, crossing the few steps to his room and throwing open the door for her. "Damn right, Hawke. Damn right."

She stumbles through the open door, hugging close to the wall, and face plants into the bed, breathing in Varric's scent deeply. She's suddenly sad and lonely and her stomach twists in painful regret. It's foolish, right? To keep waiting for him. "Maybe you're right," she whispers.

"About what?" he asks from the armchair he's settled into, feet propped on a stool as he gets comfortable.

"Should have said yes. I like Sebastian. He's pretty… and I would have been a princess. Mum would have been proud, finally," she replies.

"Leandra loved you, Hawke," he says softly.

"I know. Just… hard to remember that sometimes," she replies. She reaches for the pillow and pulls it close, wishing that instead of simply smelling like the man in the room with her, it actually was the man in the room with her.

"Yeah." His reply is noncommittal and is followed shortly by deep, steady, even breathing, which Amelia believes denotes he's sleeping. The silence stretches out; her eyelids are getting heavy. "Hawke, you can always tell Sebastian you changed your mind… if it doesn't work out with whoever it is you're waiting on."

"Maybe," she sighs, giving the pillow another squeeze. There is no response but that steady, even breathing again, and Hawke lets its soothing rhythm pull her into the comfort of sleep.


End file.
